


gold room

by zannen



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fate & Destiny, M/M, Meet-Cute, Prompt Fic, Prophetic Dreams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-10 20:55:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10447311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zannen/pseuds/zannen
Summary: Fate: 1; Kyungsoo: 0.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kmy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kmy/gifts).



> Title inspired by a line in a [Siken](http://poeticfuck.blogspot.com/2008/06/siken-snow-and-dirty-rain.html) poem.
> 
> This is a fill for a COMPLETELY MYSTERIOUS ANON who probably did not expect me to write as much as I did, based on a concept I came up with roughly two minutes after getting the prompt. So I hope it's good, but who knows!

“I’ve been having dreams again,” Kyungsoo says to the wallpaper, shifting in his chair uncomfortably.

Junmyeon makes a little noise of acknowledgment in the back of his throat. Then there’s the quiet scratch of pen on paper as he writes something in his notebook, which is only frightening if Kyungsoo watches him do it. The room still smells of green tea and a hint of cologne.

Apparently having realized Kyungsoo isn’t going to say any more on his own, Junmyeon says, “Normal dreams?”

Kyungsoo shakes his head. “No,” he says. “You know what kind.”

No writing this time. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Junmyeon straighten a bit in his seat, feels the therapist’s gaze fixed on him, burning holes. He brings a hand to his mouth automatically and starts biting at a hangnail he noticed earlier, still resolutely not meeting Junmyeon’s eye.

“Kyungsoo,” Junmyeon says a little too delicately, making Kyungsoo’s pulse pick up and stomach churn. “They’re completely normal. Almost half the population—”

“I don’t care if half the population has them.” He glances at Junmyeon briefly, not really liking what he sees in his expression, then balls his hand into a fist and lets it drop back to his lap. He takes a deep breath. “I didn’t ask for this,” he says. “I don’t want it.”

It’s been years since he last had one of his prophetic dreams. The last time was at university, and he had to do things like take the longest possible route to some of his classes just to avoid the hallway he’d been dreaming about so persistently. He’d been too afraid of what he’d find there, of the boy whose image he’d pieced together like a puzzle from small glimpses: thin and smiling lips, hair falling just above his eyes, bones too prominent in certain places. There was a name, too, one that Kyungsoo had done his best to forget.

The dreams are meant to lead people to their soulmates, and only one person in the equation will get them. It’s not always the straightforward romantic affair the movies like to pretend it is; sometimes it’s friendship, like what Jongdae found with his. And those are fine. Wonderful, actually. Kyungsoo would be over the moon if he thought his dreams were leading him to his future best friend, or anything along those lines.

Except they’re not. He knows this because some of the dreams—the ones that go beyond them meeting, the what-if dreams that will only happen if he lets them—are too tender and provocative to be platonic. Dreams so vivid he can feel his heart swelling with too much love, then wakes up startled and shaking and terrified.

It’s too bad for his soulmate that Kyungsoo was the one stuck with the dreams, because he doesn’t plan on pursuing them at all. Not with some guy he doesn’t even know, whom some unknown force has decided is his One True Love. Kyungsoo doesn’t even like men. Not usually, at least.

“Well, you’re not alone,” says Junmyeon. “I avoided mine for almost five years because I thought destiny was a bunch of bullshit.”

That gets Kyungsoo’s attention. He eyes Junmyeon curiously. “What happened? Did you give up?”

“No.” A tight smile stretches across Junmyeon’s lips. “She died.”

Kyungsoo’s ears go hot with mortification. He clears his throat, then says a quiet, “Oh.”

“I’m not trying to guilt you into doing anything,” says Junmyeon. “What you do is your own business, and I can help you figure things out either way, if you want. But time isn’t always on your side.” He rolls his pen between his fingers. “I just want you to know what the consequences can be.”

That conversation sticks in Kyungsoo’s head for the rest of the week as he thinks about how quickly choices can stop being choices. What a shitty conundrum, that his fate could be out of his hands no matter what he does. It doesn’t make him sad or anxious—it makes him resentful, indignant. He hates whatever caused this, and he especially,  _especially_  hates the man in his dreams who just won’t leave him alone.

—

Months pass, and their meeting happens exactly like it would in the world’s most unoriginal rom-com, with the two of them literally bumping into each other.

There’s coffee all over the front of Kyungsoo’s clothes, the fallen papers in front of him, the stranger who just ran into him at an alarming speed but somehow, miraculously, didn’t knock him down. He clenches his teeth and tries desperately to calm down. It’s been a long week, he’s tired, and all he wants is to go home and fall asleep in the bath. He doesn’t have the energy to deal with this.

“Shit, sorry, sorry, sorry,” the other guy says frantically, dropping to the ground and gathering the papers he’d dropped during the collision. Around the coffee stains and dampness from the wet ground, Kyungsoo can make out what looks like a few watercolor illustrations. “Fucking ruined. Ha. This is exactly what I get for being a shitty human being.” The stranger looks up from the papers with a worried frown, then swears under his breath and returns to his task.

Kyungsoo would know those eyes anywhere, those hands. He feels a sudden wave of nausea.

“Christ,” he mutters.

“I’m really, really sorry,” says Baekhyun. His voice is tight. “We can trade numbers, I’ll pay for your dry cleaning or whatever, I just really—”

“It’s fine,” says Kyungsoo. “It’s just a shirt.” He just wants to get out of here as quickly as possible, away from fucking Baekhyun and this whole fucking destiny thing.

“No, fuck you, I’m paying for it whether you—” Baekhyun freezes, then laughs tiredly. He stops gathering papers and sinks back into a sitting position on the rain-soaked pavement, face buried in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he says again. “I’m really stressed out. I haven’t slept in thirty-two hours. I’m late for a deadline. Please let me give you money so I don’t feel like a failure of a person.”

Kyungsoo is at a loss. He’s spent all this time fearing and hating everything Baekhyun represents in his life, but the guy looks so pathetic there on the ground, with wet, dirty patches on his knees from kneeling down, greasy hair plastered messily to his forehead, clothes rumpled and sad-looking and now coffee-stained. Some of the drink even got on his messenger bag. The pictures scattered around him are vibrant and pretty, even with the paint starting to run. It makes it hard to be mad at him.

“You really don’t have to,” says Kyungsoo. “Look, you’re obviously having a hard time, it’s not—”

“I’m the unstoppable force to your immovable object,” says Baekhyun, voice slightly muffled. “We’re never going to get anywhere.”

Kyungsoo almost laughs, but suppresses it, letting out a sigh instead. He squats down and grabs the messy stack of papers Baekhyun had already gathered and starts adding to it, glancing at the pictures as he goes.

From what he can tell, they’re little scenes in a forest, featuring brightly-colored, slightly cartoonish animals. The movement and texture—at least in the bits that aren’t ruined—are amazing.

“Are these yours?” he asks, pausing to look at one page featuring a huffy-looking rabbit. It’s the least damaged he’s seen of the bunch.

“Yeah,” says Baekhyun.

“They’re really good.” Kyungsoo hesitates. “So you’re an artist?”

“Yeah. Illustrator. I do children’s books.”

Kyungsoo hums. He carefully rests the page with the rabbit on the top of the stack, hoping to keep it more or less dry, then sets about collecting the rest of the papers. When he’s finished, he straightens them and holds them out to Baekhyun. “Here.”

Baekhyun’s eyes are red when he drops his hands. He looks at Kyungsoo, sniffles, and accepts the pile. “Thanks,” he says quietly.

“Sorry about your illustrations,” says Kyungsoo. “You must’ve worked hard on them.”

Baekhyun laughs. It’s not the bright, warm sound Kyungsoo’s dreamed of. “It’s my fault for going past my deadline and being an idiot,” he says. “Shitty things happen to shitty people.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Kyungsoo says, frowning.

“Someone’s gotta be.” Baekhyun gets to his feet, a little unsteadily. Kyungsoo follows suit. “I mean, life’s already doing it anyway, but what can you do, y’know?” Another laugh. “Sorry. Tired. My filter isn’t really working.”

There’s still a part of Kyungsoo—an increasingly small part now—that wants to immediately escape and never talk to or think about Baekhyun again, but he knows he’d feel guilty if he just left the guy like this. He bites the inside of his cheek.

“I really don’t need you to pay for anything,” he says. “Really. It’s just a shirt, a boring work shirt, I have five other ones just like it.”

“Alright,” says Baekhyun, looking more exhausted than ever. “No dry cleaning. But—at least let me do something? Even just, I dunno, buying you coffee sometime or something. I won’t spill it on you, either. Promise.”

A smile tugs at Kyungsoo’s lips. “You’re not giving up until I say yes to something, are you?”

“Nope.”

“Fine.” He mulls it over. “Draw me something.”

Baekhyun blinks. “What, like—now?”

“After you’ve slept.”

“Okay.” Baekhyun digs around in his bag and takes out a marker, pulls the cap off with his teeth. He scribbles quickly on the top page, the one with the bunny, and then re-caps the marker and holds it between his teeth as he hands the page to Kyungsoo.  _Byun Baekhyun_ , followed by a phone number. “Text me in a week,” he says around the marker.

Kyungsoo nods. “I will.”

Baekhyun stuffs the marker and stack of damaged papers into his bag. “Cool. Um.” He laughs. “I’m... gonna go home and sleep. Sorry again.”

“No problem. It was nice to meet you,” Kyungsoo says, finding, to his surprise, that he actually means it.

Ugh.

—

A week and a day go by, and Kyungsoo finally texts the number Baekhyun left him:  _Hi, it’s Kyungsoo_.

The response:  _Who??_

Oh. Shit. Kyungsoo didn’t actually give him his name, did he? Before he can reply, there’s a follow-up.

_Oh! Coffee guy?_

_Good timing! I just finished your picture today~_

They agree to meet up for coffee, because Baekhyun  _still_  insists on getting him something. Kyungsoo is beginning to get the impression that Baekhyun is a deeply stubborn person.

The strange thing about all of this, Kyungsoo thinks, is that the encounter on the street had been nothing like what his dreams had shown him. The scenarios he’d always seen were more mundane and anticlimactic, normal, non-explosive. He wonders if fate got a little tired of his obstinacy and forced them to meet in a noteworthy and unavoidable way, one that Kyungsoo couldn’t just ignore. Which is an equally annoying and troubling thought, when he thinks about it.

He gets to the coffee shop a good fifteen minutes ahead of Baekhyun, his nerves making him even more pointedly early than he normally is. He doesn’t need to be nervous. Doesn’t know why he is. He orders herbal tea and forces himself to take deep breaths.

Baekhyun arrives looking much more alive and awake than the first time they met. Clean and put together. No tired slouch or unkempt hair. He’s—and Kyungsoo really hates to admit this—kind of good-looking, actually. Especially with how his face lights up when he spots Kyungsoo. It’s one of the nicest eye smiles Kyungsoo’s ever seen. Jesus.

“Sorry, hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long,” says Baekhyun, dropping his bag onto the floor as he takes a seat across from Kyungsoo. He peers into the half-empty mug, eyes widening. “Oh, shit, I guess I did.”

“I was running errands nearby, so I just got here a little early,” Kyungsoo lies.

Baekhyun visibly relaxes, letting out a whoosh of breath. “Thank god. Thought I was gonna look like a real asshole for a second.” He cranes his neck to look at the line by the register. “I’ll go up when you’re ready for a refill.”

Kyungsoo nods. There’s no point in arguing with Baekhyun again. “Have you been sleeping better?” he asks.

“Yep! Passed out for fifteen hours, then got up and started the whole project over and turned it in a week late.” He leans back in his chair and huffs out a laugh. “My publisher really hates me.”

“Better late than never?” Kyungsoo offers.

Baekhyun grins. “I think she’d rather see me die than turn my work in late.”

That reminds Kyungsoo, jarringly, of his conversation with Junmyeon. He feels his heart sink like lead. He decides to change the subject quickly.

“So what’d you draw for me?” he asks.

Without another word, Baekhyun grabs his messenger bag and sets it on his lap. After a moment of mumbling under his breath and combing through what sounds like a large collection of things, Baekhyun pulls out a manila folder.

“Here,” he says, sliding it over to Kyungsoo. “It’s not my best work, but I dunno. Hopefully you don’t hate it.” He sets his bag back down, more gently this time.

Kyungsoo opens the folder carefully. Inside is a plastic sleeve covering an inked drawing. It’s an anthropomorphic tuxedo cat, with large, serious eyes and a strong brow, its bottlebrush tail curled around a coffee mug. The animal has an unamused, put-upon look. Kyungsoo can’t help but chuckle. His chest feels strange and light. Soft.

“Is that me?” he asks.

“If you like it, yes,” says Baekhyun. “If you don’t, then no, definitely not.”

“I do. It’s really nice.” Kyungsoo traces his finger over the signature in the corner. His heart clenches a little. “Thank you.”

“I was honestly pretty surprised by how easy it was to draw you from memory,” says Baekhyun. “With how tired I was and everything. But I guess you don’t really forget about people you run over.”

“Yeah. Guess not.” Kyungsoo stares at the drawing a moment longer, then looks up at Baekhyun. “Hey, this is—sorry, you don’t have to answer this, but what were you saying that day about—life being hard on you? Are you okay?”

Baekhyun’s face falls. “Oh. It’s, uh. I’m not really—” He breaks eye contact and looks down at Kyungsoo’s mug again. “I’m gonna get something to drink. What do you want?”

“Um—americano. Milk, no sugar?”

Baekhyun nods and gets up from the table, leaving Kyungsoo alone for the next few minutes.

He comes back with two ceramic mugs and sets them both down on the laminated wood. The one in front of him is filled with mini marshmallows. Hot chocolate. Kyungsoo’s heart goes a little softer.

“Thank—”

“I was just feeling sorry for myself,” Baekhyun interrupts. “It’s not a big deal. My life’s not a tragedy or anything.”

Kyungsoo stays silent, looking at Baekhyun’s long fingers wrapped around the white mug.

“It’s just been kind of hard lately,” says Baekhyun, “watching people like... getting married and shit. Settling down with someone they met in high school or college. Their soulmate. Or whatever that garbage is.” He purses his lips. “I had to be someone’s best man a couple weeks ago. It kind of... fucked me up. So. Late project and no sleep, ‘cause I can’t control my dumb feelings.” He makes a derisive noise, shaking his head.

He takes a sip of his hot chocolate, and in the pause that follows, it seems like he’s done talking. But then he says to his drink, “My friends all found their people pretty early on. Even the ones without the dreams. I’m the only one who hasn’t. And I’ve kind of started to give up on it happening, I guess. Some people never find theirs, I know that. It’s fine. Well, it’s not. But. It will be. Eventually.”

All at once, Kyungsoo feels like the most tremendous piece of shit on the planet.

For years now, he’s been refusing to follow his soulmate prophecy dreams because he hates being told what to do with his own life and isn’t comfortable with the implications of all this weird love-magic nonsense. But he failed to consider how all of this might affect Baekhyun, how it might hurt him. He’s made him feel unwanted, he realizes, probably in a big way. And even though Kyungsoo doesn’t care for any of this soulmate shit, he knows now that Baekhyun does, and he doesn’t have the option anymore of ignoring the whole thing. He takes a long drink of his coffee.

“Where were you these past few years?” he asks.

Baekhyun gives him a weird look. “Uh. I dunno, I traveled? I studied abroad at CalArts for a little while.”

“And when did you come back to Seoul?”

“Last year? Why do you—”

“Because—” Kyungsoo can’t look him in the eye. His throat suddenly hurts. “Because I didn’t dream about you for over three years, Baekhyun.”

Silence at first. Then the loud, stuttering squeak of a chair being pushed back abruptly across the tiled floor, and the rustling and hurried footsteps telling him Baekhyun’s taken his things and left.

Kyungsoo sighs. He looks down at the drawing, his caricature staring back at him unamusedly.

—

“I know you’re upset,” he says in his third voicemail that week, “and you should be. I’m a selfish dick. I’m sorry.”

He hits his head back against the wall with a dull thud and closes his eyes. “I’m still having the dreams,” he says. “Every night. I can’t get you out of my head, Baekhyun.” He chokes out a humorless laugh. “It was never this bad before we met. But I think about you all the time now. I guess that’s just what I get.”

He pauses, trying to think of what to say next. “I know if it had been you, you would’ve looked for me. But—maybe it had to be this way, or else I wouldn’t have believed it. I would’ve said you were crazy and left the country, changed my name or something so you couldn’t find me. But I do believe it. I still don’t get it, and I don’t like it, but I know it’s real. So I’m... I’m trying now. I’m not running away. I don’t want to hurt you again.”

A couple of minutes after he hangs up, Baekhyun calls him back.

“Hel—”

“We have the same fucking therapist,” says Baekhyun. “I was early for my appointment on Wednesday and I saw you walking out of the building, so I asked Junmyeon if he knew a Do Kyungsoo and he said yes and then said that was a breach of confidentiality and he shouldn’t’ve told me, but then I told him I was your soulmate and you know what he said? ‘That explains a lot.’”

“Oh,” says Kyungsoo.

“And we lived on the same floor our second year of university, did you know that? We had friends in common. We fucking  _have_  friends in common. I’ve known Chanyeol since I was  _six_ , Kyungsoo.”

“Oh,” Kyungsoo says again.

“Yeah, and you know, it gets even more fucking ridiculous than that. Your mom is my mom’s hairdresser. And we went to the same high school. And now we’re under the same publisher!  _You didn’t tell me you’re a fucking writer, you sack of shit_.”

“Are we really?” Kyungsoo blinks in surprise. “I didn’t know they released children’s books.”

“That’s not th—look, my point is, all this fate bullshit isn’t actually bullshit, and our lives are weirdly connected for some reason. So I probably couldn’t avoid you even if I wanted to.”

“That’s... really unsettling,” says Kyungsoo. “But... also romantic? In a way?”

“Yeah. So.” Baekhyun sniffs. “I’m still mad at you, but I’ll let you buy me dinner.”

“Okay.”

“Ten dinners,” Baekhyun adds.

“I’ll buy you dinner every night for the rest of our lives,” says Kyungsoo. “How does that sound?”

No response.

“Baekhyun?”

Baekhyun laughs. “You’re right, this destiny stuff is really fucking unsettling. I just got chills,” he says. “God. The rest of our lives, huh?”

“Well.” Kyungsoo smiles a little. “That’s how it works, yeah.”

“Let’s just ignore the whole soulmate thing and go on a normal date or something. Can we do that? Is that allowed?”

“Probably not,” says Kyungsoo. “Let’s do it.”

Baekhyun’s chuckle is light and cheerful, just like Kyungsoo’s always imagined. “Okay,” he says. “Deal.”

—

Kissing Baekhyun doesn’t feel like an admission of defeat, like Kyungsoo always thought it would. It feels just the way it’s supposed to: soft, comfortable, perfect. He steals as many moments with Baekhyun as he can, just to make up for lost time.


End file.
